


Watching

by shaggydogstail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: scarvesnhats, Getting Together, M/M, Seasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/pseuds/shaggydogstail
Summary: Remus stands at the window, watching





	

SPRING

Remus stood back from the window slightly, and to the side, hoping he wouldn’t be seen from the street. Not that it was particularly likely that anyone would be looking up to the first floor window of a block of shabby bedsits, but Remus didn’t like to take chances. The paint hung off the wooden frame in ugly flakes and the wood itself was rotten in parts, so Remus had to take great care when he cleaned the small square panes. The rest of the bedsit had a pervading grubbiness that Remus never could fully scrub away, but he always kept the window glass sparkling clean. He liked to be able to see clearly.

He watched neighbours come and go, pigeons swoop past, and once a week the dust cart trundling up the street collecting litter in bulging black sacks. But mostly, he watched for Sirius.

It was slightly embarrassing to have Sirius visit him in his shabby, run-down home, but watching Sirius arrive always made it worthwhile. Remus found the sight of Sirius charging down the quiet suburban street on _that_ motorbike, all brash, chic rebellion and teenage sex appeal, wonderfully exhilarating. His breath caught in his throat when Sirius swung his leg over the bike as he dismounted and glanced up and down the street, shaking his coal-black hair in the fresh spring breeze.

Usually, Sirius arrived with James or Peter, sometimes both, but Remus liked it best when Sirius came alone. It was easier, that way, to pretend, make believe that Sirius was coming to him, for him alone. He’d watch Sirius stride down the street, then bound up the stairs at the front of the building, taking the steps two at a time. When Sirius disappeared inside the front door he’d allow himself a delicious few seconds of fantasy that when Sirius burst through his door (Sirius wasn’t one for knocking) he’d draw him into his arms instead of welcoming him with a cheery greeting, and that instead of offering Sirius a beer when he arrived he’d offer him… himself. He always managed to pull himself together enough to remember that Sirius would rather have the beer by the time the door opened.

Remus might have carried on like that, lurking in the shadows with his daydreams if Sirius hadn’t looked up one day, too quickly for Remus to back away, and seen him. Sirius was up the stairs and inside the bedsit before Remus could think of a convincing excuse as to why he was staring out of the window ogling his best friend. Not that it mattered: when Sirius entered the room and Remus opened his mouth to speak, Sirius didn’t allow him the opportunity to get the words out. He crossed the room in two quick strides, pinned Remus up against the window, and kissed him.

Remus felt the breath leave his body as Sirius crushed him into the window pane, cracked paint flaking into his hair and Sirius’ mouth, tongue, hands and body pressed against him, invading him. He felt dizzy, shaken with lust and euphoria when Sirius released him to speak, words dripping like warm honey in his ear.

‘Moony… sorry… couldn’t help,’ Sirius’ voice was thick with desire, and Remus noticed that the hands holding his head were shaking. ‘Saw you looking and I just… I thought… ’ Sirius looked at him, staring directly into Remus’ eyes with a fierce, warm intensity. ‘Do you want me, Moony?’

Remus thought he might explode. He hardly recognised his own voice when he heard himself say, ‘yes.’

‘Fuck, yeah,’ Sirius growled, and dragged him to the bed.

SUMMER

Summer was heat and joy, lust burning like the sun and no more pretending. Remus pushed open the window and leant outside, feeling sunshine warm his face as he looked out with undisguised happiness and anticipation. Sirius always looked up at him when he arrived in the street below, and Remus didn’t even think of turning away.

One day Sirius didn’t disappear into the main entrance door to the widow, but jumped over the railings at the front of the building and climbed up the rickety drainpipe that ran past the window. Remus reached out a hand to help him inside, but Sirius pulled him out towards him. They kissed in mid-air, hanging on for dear life to a rusty old bit of plumbing, a decaying window frame, and each other, not in the least afraid of falling.

When Remus asked why he’d done it, teasing Sirius that it would have taken him less time to climb the stairs, Sirius smiled and said he couldn’t see Remus from the stairs, and once he’d seen him he didn’t want to take his eyes off him, even for a moment. Remus supposed this was romantic, after a fashion, but it was also mad and impetuous, terrifically dangerous and it was _Sirius_ , which was so much better. He laughed, but didn’t deny it, when Sirius said he thought Remus enjoyed watching him arrive as much as he liked him actually being there.

The following week, Sirius appeared in the bedsit, brandishing a time-turner (undoubtedly stolen). He pulled Remus towards the window and dropped to his knees, and Remus was so overwhelmed at watching Sirius _then_ saunter up the pavement, glancing up to wink at him while Sirius _now_ crouched below the window frame and sucked him that he came down Sirius’ throat before he even reached the front steps.

Later, when they curled up together on the faded eiderdown, too hot for touching, too hot for each other not to, Remus wished he could stop time altogether and stay forever wrapped in the warmth of July and Sirius.

AUTUMN

Sirius grew cold with the wind.

Remus still stood at the window and watched for him, but as much in trepidation as anticipation. He studied Sirius, looking for clues to his mood in the way he walked, the angle at which he held his head, and the way he moved his hands.

September came in with rain, cold, grey, and drizzly. The bedsit was cold and damp, and the windowpanes rattled, letting in cold draughts. Remus shivered as he stood and looked out on the street, so bleak as the leaves died on the trees, and something inside Sirius seemed to be dying too.

He came less often now and he didn’t bound up the steps anymore. Sometimes he’d stand in the street, looking lost and forlorn, as if he wasn’t sure which way to turn. As Remus looked down on him, seeing the pain and confusion written across his face even at a distance, he wanted to run downstairs and take him by the hand, to show him the way, guide him. But he never did: he just stood and watched, waiting for Sirius to find his way to him.

Once, towards the end, Sirius didn’t come in at all. He arrived late at night and stood perfectly still under the ugly yellow glow of a street light, staring up at the window. Remus stood in the darkness of his room, knowing Sirius couldn’t see him, knowing Sirius must realise he was there anyway. When Sirius turned, climbed back onto his bike and rode away, Remus cursed himself for having enough self-restraint not to run after him, screaming.

WINTER

Winter came early that November, and Remus thought it might never end. The Northern chill froze the window shut and turned his heart to ice.

He stood by the window, stock still and tearless, unable to see out into the street. The glass was opaque with early morning frost, the cold winter sun shining bitter light through ice on glass. The cold seeped through the marrow of his bones and chilled the blood in his veins.

He kept staring, not caring that he couldn’t see past the frozen cobwebs on dirty glass. There was no-one to watch for in the street anymore, no-one to come and find him, nothing and no-one and never.

Remus wondered how, in all the time he’d spent watching Sirius, he’d never seen him at all.


End file.
